Thus One Reaches the Stars
by the fuzzy nosed wombat
Summary: Disaster and strife on Ancient Namek. Chapter 5 now up! Please R&R.
1. Default Chapter

_Hi people! I'm back! Here's my new story, Thus One Reaches the Stars. Sorry, it's not a Piccolo story. But before you hit the back button, you should know that it is a Namek story. In it, I try to describe life on Namek in the years before the planet was destroyed, leaving only two survivors: the young Kami, and Gurru. You might recognize three names in the story, other than that, all characters are my own. Enjoy!_

_Sadly, I do not own Dragonball. If I did, I would be rolling in piles of money and getting my butler to type this for me. Since he's not here, you'll have to deal with my inferior prose._

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            A leaf flutters gently in the morning breeze. In the Gardens of Sianne, the air is cool against the skin, and the sounds of the world are shut away from those unwilling to hear them. It is a place where one goes to be alone. 

            A solitary figure sits underneath the leaves, trailing a slender hand through the chill waters of the fountain. His garment is white as snow, white as the edge of the fountain he rests upon, white as the bark of the tree that hangs over his head. He sits enveloped by the whiteness, a hood covering his emerald face. White as death. 

            It is of death that he is thinking; not of his own, but that of others. He knows death is not an end, but a beginning. Such is what the scholars teach. Perhaps they're right. He knows better. These deaths are the end of an age, and what is to come, he does not care to imagine. 

            So he sits, dressed for mourning, with his hand growing cold from the water. He barely lifts his head as five other people join him, disturbing his privacy. They disturb the purity of the white garden, being dressed from head to toe in black and silver, the marks of the King's Guard.

            One namek steps forward, his jade skin gleaming slightly with a thin sheen of sweat. The clear light of the yellow sun is reflected in the shine of his eyes. His short black cloak tumbles forward from his shoulders. He kneels, and begins to speak.

            The white namek tries not to hear the words of the ritual. He recognizes them though, and he doesn't like it. His head rises with a note of surprise in his black eye. The words continue in the flowing language of his people, deciding his fate for him. He stands before the fountain, before the other nameks and slowly removes his soft white hood. Sharp features shine in the sunlight, breaking the spell of the uniform surroundings. 

            The kneeling figure rises also. He takes a step back, his feet pressing lightly against the soft blue grass. He shouts in a great voice, pleased with his task.

            "The King is dead! Long live the King!"

            The other four take up the cry.

            "Long live the King!"

            "Long live the King!"

            Katat lowers his head until his chin nearly rests upon the soft white fabric of his robe. He then raises it, meeting the dark grey eyes of the Captain of the King's Guard. Katat nods slightly, accepting of his fate.

            "Long live the King." 


	2. Blue Moon

            The city brims with excitement. Elen Sulae, City of the Light, shines brightly this night under the blue moon and bright stars. Jewel of Namek, it gleams in a whirl of colours, and sparkles with the wild strains of music that stream endlessly from the instruments of skilled players, everything blending together in a cacophony of light and sound. Tonight, it is Festival.

            The Nameks dance in the streets, masked and dressed in silken cloth of the brightest hues. They sing and laugh together, enjoying their anonymity. They are freed from their identities, freed of responsibilities, free to become who they always wanted to be, acting out their wildest fantasies. The light from torches throws back the darkness of the deep blue midnight sky, leaving it safely distant from the revels.

            This is what Semace came for. This excitement, this fire that envelops them all, he feels it too, now. It was worth coming to the city a few days early, if only to experience this night that comes only once every three years. He smiles under his bright mask, adjusts his scarlet cloak, and wades off into the crowds. 

            He spends a few hours dancing below the statues of various heroes long dead and gone from the world, loving every minute of it. Tired then, he moves on to a shop where he drinks drafts of cool, sweetened water and sitting back comfortably in a worn chair, he listens to the stories of the other patrons.

            One Namek, masked as a kind of snake, downs his drink and continues with his tale.

            "I'll tell you, now, I was just about lost in those forests and I was hearin' a strange sorta sound. You know how every noise when you're alone sounds like you're in mortal danger? That's what I thought too. So I just kept walking, being all nonchalant and all..."

            "Bet it was jus' a bird!" shouts a yellow-robed Namek in the corner.

            "But it wasn't! Y'see, that's just what I thought too. A bird or something small, but it wasn't!" He pauses expectantly. No one reacts, but not to be deterred, he continues on just as enthusiastically. 

"I thought it was just a little animal, but then I get jumped by a full-grown kapata!" There is a reaction now from the crowd. "Now I was pretty shocked, as y'might imagine, but I kept my cool. Never panic, always remember that! I could feel its fangs at my throat, right at my throat, and those claws were pinning my arms to the ground, but I fought on bravely. I caught it in the side with my spear and when it jumped, I rolled out from underneath it. I flung it up against a tree, but it jumped right back at me. A kapata's pretty strong you know, but I was stronger. All day we fought, and I never gave an inch. And then, just as the red sun started to go down, I caught it and I killed it, thus saving my village."

            Applause rings out through the room. The storyteller, quite pleased with himself, downs another drink and settles back comfortably in his seat.

            Semace can't help but laugh. The idea of attacking a kapata with a spear was completely ludicrous. No one would be stupid enough to do that. Either the storyteller was a liar, or he had an excellent healer, or both. Still, thinks Semace, why ruin the fun? It was a good story.

            "It is pretty funny isn't it?" asks the Namek seated right next to him. Semace turns and looks into the dark eyes just barely visible behind the other Namek's mask. He is a bird of prey with a cruel hooked beak. "The story, I mean," adds the stranger. "Given the way you were laughing, I gather you know something about hunting."

            Semace nods and replies, "Enough to know that you can't kill a kapata with a spear."

            "He's a good storyteller though, don't you think? Nice man. I think I've guessed who he really is under that mask. I didn't know he told stories, however. He never has before."

            Semace smiles again under his mask before remembering that the stranger can't see it. "Yes," he replies. "But I wouldn't know. I'm new in town."

            "Really," states the stranger, adjusting his royal blue cloak. "Where are you from?"

            "Oh, just a little village outside of Haretyk. It's about a three hour flight to the south."

            "Yes, I've been there."

            "Have you?" asks Semace, surprised. "I didn't think anyone traveled there."

            The stranger shrugs slightly. "I travel a lot. Is this your first time in Elen Sulae?"

            Semace nods.

            "You picked a fine night to come." He stands, blue cloak falling almost to his ankles. "Come on, I'll show you around."

            Semace hesitates a moment, but then follows the stranger back out into the street. They walk under the light of the blue moon, past endless buildings shining in white marble. Gardens surround the streets, with tall trees and small flowers everywhere he looks. "It's beautiful," he says suddenly, feeling impulsive.

            "It is," murmurs the Namek in the blue hawk mask. "I love the city." He points. "Over there are the three temples: one temple for each god. The one with the gold roof is the temple of the Sun, the one with the blue glass is the temple of the Moon and the farthest is the temple of the Stars." All three shine brightly in the darkness of the night.

            "Where's the palace?" asks Semace.

            The stranger waves his hand dismissively of to his right. "Over there behind those hills. It's nothing particularly special."

            "Maybe, but if I'm gonna work there, I'll need some directions."

            "You're going to work at the palace?"

            Semace smiles proudly. "Yep. You're looking at the newest member of the King's Guard."

            Semace is getting the impression that the other Namek is frowning. "What's wrong with that? I'm pretty proud of it, myself."

            "And so you should be," says the stranger slowly. "It's quite an honour. I'm sure you'll have a great time."

            "What's wrong though? I've heard the king is pretty good, that the officers are fair. I'll get lots of free time."

            "What have you heard about the king?"

            "That he's great! I mean, everyone's always talking about him. He's the greatest king in Namekian history. He's going to change the world!"

            "They say that?"

            "Everyone says that! Who doesn't love Katat?"

            "I can think of a few people."

            Semace sighs. "Well, there's bound to be a few dissenters anywhere. But most people see the truth."

            The stranger smiles too then, under his mask. Semace is sure of it. The sapphire hawk reaches over and touches the younger Namek's shoulder affectionately. "To get to the palace, go down this road until you come to a fountain. Then turn right and go past the school. You'll be able to see the way from there."

            "Thanks."

            The stranger shrugs. "Yeah, well I've got to go. There's lots of work to be done."

            Semace smiles, "I'll see you again, I hope?"

            "You can count on it." The stranger turns and walks away, his deep blue cape floating in the light breeze.


	3. A Chance Encounter

            _Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, although I do wish there were more of you. Oh well, lots o' fun anyways. Sorry about the lateness, I've been practicing every night of the last few weeks for a music show. It went well, so now I'm back with two new chapters. Enjoy!_

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At a sharp command the soldiers as one entity snap their heels together and stand at attention. Their ranks have recently grown, evidenced by a minute line of stragglers at the back of the square. The line isn't quite straight, nor are the soldiers standing as attentively as the others, but as new recruits, they're given some leeway. One quickly scratches at a fly behind his ear.

            It's amazing how disapproving a glance can be given without one's moving a muscle. The other Namek, embarrassed, slowly puts his arm back down. 

            Noting this, Semace keeps his eyes focused directly forward and does his best to ignore the overwhelming urge to cough that rises in the back of his throat.  On this, his first day on the job, he obediently waits for his orders.          

            An officer sucks in a deep breath and shouts out the instructions. "All recruits are to meet with Captain Deagor in front of the barracks as they arrive. They will be admitted individually, and will then follow his directions and eventually rejoin the main group here. As for you regular soldiers, you are to remain here for combat training. Dismissed!"

            The few recruits, grasping their baggage, quickly left the lines and headed for the barracks, eager to meet their new boss.

***

"No eating in bed, no loud music while others are sleeping, no leaving the barracks until your bed is made and inspected by one of the officers, no weapons permitted in the sleeping and living quarters: they are to be stored with the others in the hold across the compound."

            The Captain pauses for breath. 

            "No leaving the compound unless given permission, no snacks from the kitchen, no pranks, and no funny stuff. I think that about covers it. Questions?"

            Semace grins mischievously. "So what is it I'm not supposed to do?"

            Captain Deagor's eyes narrow into slits. "You trying to be cute, boy?" he growls menacingly.

            "No sir! I shall refrain from all cuteness while on duty, sir!"

            "Wipe that smile off your face."

            "Smile gone, sir!"

            "Get out of here."

            Semace salutes briskly and walks out, his face diligently molded into a stern expression. By the schedule, he is due on the parade grounds for maneuver practice. He sets off at a quick march.

            Most of the others are already lined up. Their silver breastplates gleam magnificently against the deep velvet black of their tunics and leggings. Tough black leather composite boots protect their feet and calves. Semace smiles, looking down at his own identical uniform. It is all he has ever dreamed of. Still smiling, he stepped into line.

            After the lengthy marching drills, Semace follows his companions into the shade for a quick water break before the next set. He splashes the cool liquid over his neck and shoulders, shaking the sparkling droplets from his skin, and at the sound of the bell, walks back out into the heat and dust of the parade ground with water still dripping from his antennae.

            "Attention!"

            Semace snaps his heels together and places his arms at his side. Out of the corner of his eye he can see a rather tall soldier coming toward them, clad in a flowing, royal blue cape. 

            The drill sergeant opens his mouth to speak again, and quickly snaps it shut without uttering a sound. As one, every Namek on the compound drops to one knee and places their fists tightly over their hearts. Semace alone remains at attention as the caped stranger steps up onto the raised platform to stand next to the sergeant.

            Semace glances to either side. He seems to be the only one left standing. "Ohhh, shit," comes his thought. Desperately he hastens to imitate his peers, but it is too late. His sergeant is glaring at him. The stranger watches idly, an amused expression dancing in the dark depths of his eyes.

            "Semace," begins the sergeant icily, "allow me to introduce you to someone. This is Katat Daimao, Sovereign Lord and King of all Namek. I don't believe you've met."

            Semace's eyes widen with horror. He stands rooted to the spot.

            King Katat Daimao dips a small bow. "How do you do?" The amused smile remains on his lips. The two tiny pointed tips of his fangs gleam in the sunlight.

            It's just too quaint. Semace stares a moment longer, then he hesitantly returns the bow. "Quite well, thank you," he squeaks through a throat suddenly gone dry. "How are you?"

            "Tolerably well, thank you."

            There is yet another uncomfortable moment of silence.

            The king's deep voice, soft as the rays of dawn, breaks the quiet. "Dare I assume that you are new here?"

            "I just arrived, my lord."

            "I thought as much." He jumps down off the platform in a most un-regal manner, and strides confidently through the ranks toward the new recruit. The head of every soldier turns as he passes by.

            "Are you the recruit from Yssos?"'

            "Yes, my lord."

            "What's your name?"

            "Semace Filon, my lord."

Katat's onyx eyes hold Semace's a moment longer, then the king turns to sweep the rest of line with his gaze.

            "And you, you're all new too, right?"

            The soldiers murmur an assent.

            "Stand up then, so I can see you."

            They rise quickly, looking shyly away from the king. 

            "And your names?"

            "Hekar Kisom."

            "Jionae Yurii."

            "Lera Vitzar."

            And so on down the line.

            Katat smiles and nods simply as the last soldier finishes speaking. "I bid you welcome. I am sure you will serve the guard with the honour due your position." He turns briskly to the sergeant. "For their first duty, I'd like to have maybe four of them present at my dinner tonight as guards of honour."

            The sergeant raises an eyebrow. "Isn't it a bit early for them, yet? It's only their first day."

            Katat raises his own eyebrow in an almost perfect imitation of the soldier as he continues without missing a beat. "The next day, four more, and so on until they've all had their turn. You will train the first four until their duty tonight. They are to arrive at the palace at seven. See that they're on time."

            The sergeant opens his mouth to protest, but his king calmly cuts him off with a delicate gesture of dismissal. "It's the only way they'll learn. See you at seven."  

            And he leaves as abruptly as he came, in a flourish of sapphire cape.

            Sighing, the sergeant turns back toward his nervous recruits. "All right," he growls, holding out his finger to point at each of the Nameks in turn. "You, you, you and you, come with me."

            Grinning broadly, Semace falls into step behind the other soldiers and leaves the grounds.


	4. A Civilized Dinner Party

They're standing in the wide hall of the palace, all four of them. They talk softly, awed by the splendour of their surroundings. The walls are of purest white marble, the floor, deep green stone polished to reflect all light that touches it. Windows are cut into the walls high above them, set with coloured glass. They leave pools of radiant light upon the floor: blue, yellow, red, green. The palace is old, but it has remained almost unchanged since it was first built upon the hill, with perfection inherent in every stone and timber.

            Semace pushes his boot idly through a ray of blue light, watching the play of radiant shine along its length. A deep, soft voice breaks the silence.

            "I see you're all ready then," says Katat as he ascends a short staircase. He is resplendent in his finery, pure white linen shirt gleaming against his rich emerald skin. A magnificent long cape of heavy blue silk hangs from his shoulders, moving soundlessly as he walks. It is held at the shoulder by a glittering gold pin, his one indulgence, cut in the shape of a small star with rays outstretched. 

            "Come along," states the king quite calmly, and the newly trained soldiers fall into step behind him. He chats as they walk along. "I apologize for my lateness, but I had a mountain of paperwork to dig through. I have truly started to believe that every sheet of parchment used on this planet somehow finds its way into my office. Must be magic, I think. There's just no other explanation for it."

            Katat's voice echoes against the walls. He nods graciously at a courtier passing by. "It's been a long day, and it's just going to get longer." He pauses, and smiles wryly, looking back at the soldiers behind him. "But I doubt you want to hear my whining. Let's talk about you."

            The soldiers all look at him, somewhat confused. Katat sighs. "Not big talkers, are you? Have any of you done anything interesting lately? Have fun at Festival?" There is still no reaction. "Do any of you have families?"

            One Namek answers him. "I do, sir. I've got two little sons at home."

            "Really?" asks Katat. "That's great. How old are they?"

            "Five and nine."

            Katat smiles. "I'm sure they're wonderful." He stops in front of two massive doors. "We've arrived." He turns to the soldiers. "I'm sure you've already been briefed, but I think I'd like to add a few things. There are many high-ranking officials and members of the priesthood here tonight, as well as various other guests of honour. The problem is that they know they are high-ranking guests. Given the somewhat questionable state of mind of people who willingly receive such honour, things could get very ugly, very fast. They like to think that they're all very important, and when things don't go their way, they start to get a bit testy. My advice is to just sit back and enjoy the show. I'm sure you'll find that it can be an endlessly amusing distraction. It happens to be one of my favourite hobbies."

            He smiles wickedly. "With that said, let's go on in."

            The change that comes over the young king as he pushes open the doors is stunning. His chin lifts a little higher, his gaze becomes more distant, and he strides with a purpose, almost presumptuously as he traverses the room. He is cool, distant, regal, hardly giving the surprised guards a second glance when he leaves them behind. 

            They hurry to follow him. 

            The hall is astounding in its decoration. It suits the rest of the palace with a perfection so pure that one is transported through merely entering the room. Semace gazes down the long table set with the light, spicy foods that Nameks prefer. The variety of guests is astonishing. The priests are easily identifiable from their loose robes of pale blue, yellow, and white depending on their denomination. Various other nobles sit at the table, nibbling on various dainties and chatting easily to one another. However all eyes are on the king as he gracefully takes his seat at the head of the table.

            He smiles dazzlingly at his guests. "Thank you all for coming. Truly, never has any table been honoured more often with such distinguished guests as you. And never has any host been more honoured to receive them."

            There is polite applause and the Nameks continue their meal. The king easily, skilfully draws them into polite conversation, playing them as a musician might play the harp. Yet somehow, he is withdrawn and restrained. Once starting the conversation, he lets it peter out on its own, rarely participating. 

            Semace stands behind his king's chair, watching it all. He notes carefully how the king's face changes as he shifts his discussions from one Namek to the next. With some, he brightens, smiles more often, and laughs more heartily. With others, he darkens and speaks in short, clipped sentences and moves quickly on to the next person. Some people the king seems to ignore entirely. Two such people sit quite near to him in places of honour. They are robed in soft yellow, proclaiming them Priests of the Suns. The robes of the taller fit improperly over his grossly distended belly, and the richness of his golden belt and rings show a kind of opulence almost invisible anywhere else in the room. His companion reeks of a sickeningly sweet perfume. The king is always warily watching the two from the corner of his eye even as he smiles and laughs with the others. He regards them with a barely concealed animosity and disgust: especially the larger one. 

            This same Namek now speaks in a low voice that nevertheless carries across the entire room. "So, Katat, you felt the need to bring guards to dinner in your own house, did you?" 

            There is near silence as the room awaits the king's response.

            He smiles crookedly and replies in even tones, "It is an educational experience, High Priest. There is no better way for recruits to get to know all of you than to come to a function such as this."

            "It's also a fine way for you to show off your power."

            "I have never needed to show off anything, High Priest, you know that." The king's voice is tighter now.

            "Yes, we all know that, don't we? Katat sits there on high, looking down at everyone from through the clouds. Some of us are in touch with the common man."

            Katat smirks then. "Some of us don't wear twenty pounds of gold to a dinner among friends." Satisfied with his retort, and wanting desperately to end the exchange, the king continues his conversation with the governor of Geria, pointedly ignoring the look on the High Priest's face. The king's eyes are like ice.

            Semace watches all this, fascinated. 

            It seems the priest is not finished. "So, are you now reduced to insulting guests in your own hall?" He smiles sweetly. "For shame, Katat, not even I had thought you could sink so low."

            The king lifts his chin and glares at the High Priest with his flinty dark eyes. Semace can see his hawklike profile sharply outlined against the candlelit background. "Well then, Gurru," he murmurs quietly, "What do you suggest I do?" Semace recognizes the signs immediately. In this moment, the king is a very dangerous person.

            The High Priest Gurru, however, doesn't notice. "A true king would be kind and courteous to all his guests."

            "I see," Katat says softly. The room has grown silent. Katat gently runs his finger around the rim of his delicate water glass, seemingly fascinated with its smoothness. He looks up slowly, gazing into the watery grey eyes of his High Priest. 

"And you would do a better job, I suppose, if you had won the election a hundred years ago?"

"Certainly, I would." Gurru sighs dramatically. "How your father would weep if he saw what you've made of his beloved Namek. Ah, Johor, now he was a perfect king. His eldest son was perfection continued. Such a tragedy, that accident; killing both the king and his chosen heir in one fell swoop. Such a pity that the only member of the family remaining was, well, less than perfect. Do you understand? If only the Namekian people had made the right choice on that awful day when they chose a new heir. Unfortunately, most Nameks are charmed by a pretty smile. And now they reap what they have sown. I should be king, everyone knows it."

"Get out," whispers Katat through frozen lips. His face has paled by several shades.

"What?" demands the High Priest.

"GET OUT!!" roars Katat, slamming his glass down onto the table. The delicate stem breaks in two and water spills out over the table.

Gurru sneers across the room. "You can't just throw me out! I'm the High Priest of The Sun! Your father would-"

"Do not presume to know what my father would think," growls Katat fiercely. "Guards, escort him to the front gate."

Semace springs into action along with the rest of the guard. They easily overpower the struggling priest and begin to drag him none too gently out of the room. 

"I never again want to see your face within these walls, Gurru Navtae. High Priest or not, you are never to return here or I will find a person more suited to your honours." Katat has not risen from his chair.

Semace and the others turn a corner and are out of sight. 

They return a quarter of an hour later to find Katat still seated at a now empty banquet table. He lifts his head and gives them a sickly smile. "They all found excuses to leave."

Semace steps forward and offers the king his hand. "Lets get out of this place, sire, so we can all go home and think of more pleasant things." Katat accepts the hand gratefully and steps down out of his chair. He then takes his place at the front of the line and walks out, his footsteps echoing hollowly through the cavernous halls.

He turns and smirks at the soldiers. "Lovely first day on the job, wasn't it?"


	5. The Morning After

            _Thanks to the people who reviewed, especially Velasa, who manages to give me a load of warm fuzzies every time she comments on a chapter. You're the best, Velasa!! Input is always welcome and is appreciated greatly. Thanks!_

            The squat figure of a Namek paces restlessly over the soft earth. He traces the same path, over and over without pausing. His yellow robes stream heedlessly along the ground behind him; leaving trails in the dust over and over in the same pattern. 

            "Bastard," he thinks. "That bastard. He has no right."

Step. Step. 

"No right."

Step.

"How dare he forbid me entrance! Me!"

Step. Step. 

Pause.

"But how can a heathen like Katat be expected to understand the stress I'm under? I have been chosen. There is a burden upon my shoulders too great for one person to bear. Yes, Katat has made a grave mistake indeed."

Gurru squints up at the bright orbs of the yellow and red suns. "The wrath of the god will fall upon him."

***

Katat leans back in his chair, downing his drink. With a sigh, he replaces the glass back on the table with a decisive whack. He knows that he should get up and do his usual rounds, meeting with advisors, talking to his few trustworthy acquaintances, making decisions, going to boring meetings and all the other "kingly stuff" as he puts it. Most days, he's willing enough to perform his duties. Today, however, he has come to recognize just how much he hates those mundane tasks. Refilling his cup, he swirls the water around as he thinks. Today, there's no way he's going to leave his chambers. Anyone who objects can just go to Hell.

            He smirks slightly, savouring that thought. A world without bureaucrats. Heaven itself. With a sudden push of his foot, he whirls the large chair around to face his desk, piled high as usual with a fair-sized mountain of papers. He has a theory about that desk. It's magical. It has to be. Any time he removes a stack of paper, as soon as he turns around, another stack appears in its place. "I should talk to the priests," he thinks. "Maybe they can have it exorcised."

            The priests. They're a bit of a problem. He just threw the High Priest of the Sun God out of the palace and forbade him ever to return. The Priests of the Suns were well-respected on the planet. All Nameks worshipped the three gods: Moon, Suns and Stars. He just alienated one of them. A deeply religious person, as all Nameks are, Katat finds his actions somewhat disturbing. A lot of people were going to be pretty upset.

            Hence the reason he does not wish to go outside. He would be mobbed by the crowds, all wishing to know why he had done such a thing. The explanations would be lengthy, and would probably leave most people unsatisfied and distrustful of the king who had led them well for more than a hundred years.

            No, it is much safer indoors. 

            Outside his room, he can hear his guard turning away yet another inquirer. A good person, that guard. What was his name? Semace, that's it. Semace Filon, the guard from the festival. 

            "A friendly face he has," muses Katat quietly, pouring another drink. He looks over the guard's image in his mind. Tall, surprisingly so. Katat, a tall man, is unused to looking up at people. The younger Namek is also broad-shouldered and strong, probably quite the fighter, a possible challenge for the king. He rather likes that idea. Stretching out in his chair, he smiles. Few people, if any, can best him in a match.

            Katat stands finally, again stretching out his tense muscles. He is bored. He replaces the glass, carefully this time, and walks toward the door. He throws it open, causing Semace to jump in surprise.

            Katat puts on a surly expression. "What the hell are you still doing here, soldier? You were supposed to be off duty hours ago."

            "I had to see how you were doing, sire," replies Semace with surprising calmness.

            "What? Do you think I need to be watched like a child?" Somewhere in Katat's mind he sees this roughness as a test for his newest guard.

            "No, my lord. I just think that..." The guard shifts his weight uncomfortably. "That after last night, you know, you might want someone around."

            "On the contrary, in fact, I just want to be left alone."

            The king pauses. He can hear the cries of a messenger who had obviously heard Katat's angry outburst. The rapid footsteps echo through the corridor. "My lord!" cries the messenger. "If you would just take a look at this dispatch, I'm sure you could work it out."

            Katat hisses something extremely rude through his teeth, causing Semace to glance at him in mild shock. "Come on," growls the king, "Quickly." He grabs Semace suddenly by the arm and hauls him bodily through the open doorway. He then slams the door behind him and carefully sets the lock. Semace staggers back against the wall and gapes in astonishment. He opens his mouth to protest but is silenced by Katat's hand cupping across his open mouth.

            Katat smirks. They hear someone knocking politely from the other side of the door. "Hello? Sire?" He waits a few moments. "Hello? I must be hearing things." The messenger leaves. Katat removes his hand from Semace's face. 

            "Well, you got in to see me," says Katat as he steps away from the younger Namek. "What is it you wanted to say?"

            Semace pauses, confused. "There wasn't anything I had in mind, Sire," he begins nervously. "But you shouldn't manhandle your guards like that. You scared the living daylights out of me."

            Katat smiles kindly. "Sorry about that. "

            Semace takes a long look around the room. "So this is it. This is where all the great decisions are made." He shrugs slightly. "Kind of anticlimactic."

            "It is not up to your standards?"

            Semace smiles playfully. "You should really clean your desk once in a while."

            Katat's face darkens. "I've been working on it."

***

            The news is all over the town now. The king threw the Priest of the Sun right out on his ass. "Good job," say most. They never liked him anyway. Maybe now's the time to elect a new priest... one who's not quite so fanatical. One who's not quite so creepy. One who's not so against everything the king does.

            "Take the space program for example," one gardener is heard to say that morning. "Now what's wrong with going into space? We've got the technology, so I say, do it! Now what's Gurru's excuse for being against it? We're violating the Gods' sky? No way! We're honouring it. Why just fifteen years ago Katat had a Namek on the Mother's moon. Two years ago, he went himself! So what's wrong with exploring all that She's created?"

            A very opinionated gardener indeed. Still, most people's opinions don't differ too much from this standard. The only two who aren't aware of this simple fact are the two at either end of this dispute: Katat, King of Namek, and Gurru, High Priest of the Suns.


End file.
